Across The Universe(s)
by chrisdenvl
Summary: Imagine a universe in which everything is interlinked and nothing is impossible. Little does Lord Voldemort know of the world unseen, while the world unseen is becoming less and less appealed by his actions. Soon he'll antagonize forces beyond his understanding. Soon both the Order and the Death Eaters will be faced with the darkest of darkness.
1. Chapter 1

**GENERAL DISCLAIMER**

Imagine a universe where everything intertwined. What would happen if the wizarding world was split even deeper than anyone could imagine? What would happen if the purebloods found their superior? Seven Great Houses of Andal are supposed to be a myth. While Dumbledore suspects there was something more to the story, he would never guess that not only are they not extinct or at war with each other, but teaming around the House that was the darkest of the dark.

Here, I am playing a little with some elements from "The Game of Thrones", "Baldur's Gate Trilogy", "The Witcher" and many more. Of course, this a totally AU story set in Harry Potter settings, with most of the characters slightly OOC, but with some canon preserved. We're in a ride for some dark themes, such as incest between siblings, graphic violence and some general demoralization. We're in for some femmslash as well, forbidden feelings, and perhaps, suicide.

Yeah, but what's imagination for, if not unleashing it?

All the characters belong to their respective owners. I just play my own set.


	2. Chapter 2

**CHAPTER ONE**

**Crave, claim or let go**

* * *

The moon was pale. When she stood up, walked towards the window and stared outside, she felt a faint shiver run across her spine. The garden, now dark and almost eerie, was basking in silver luminescent light, rustling with an autumn breeze. The air was oddly stale, as if damp, carrying a graveyard stench. She inhaled deeply, closed her eyes for an instant. When she opened them again, her gaze was firm.

'I think it's about time.' she turned around and spoke to the other woman, a mousy blonde seated on an armchair in the corner. The woman visibly flinched.

'Are you sure you want to-?' she broke off the question, obviously uneasy.

'Yes. I'm sorry, it's the only way. Don't worry.' she sighed heavily and shot the other one a small smile. Maybe it was meant to be reassuring. She knew, the moment it reached her lips, that she had failed. Once again the smile was false, cold and uncaring. There was no comfort she could give.

'I'll make sure you're all right.' she finished, letting go of the smile.

'Do you say that to all your assets?' the other woman's voice was quavering.

'Only to those that are valuable.' she admitted.

It was better to tell the truth. At some time, the blond had had to figure out the ways of her world. The world of clandestine services and power plays.

'And I am?'

'Yes, Charity. You are. You did well.' she nodded her head, trying to convey as much honesty, as she could.

'Fine. Where am I supposed to go?'

'Home. Be ready. They'll be coming for you shortly.'

'Where will you be?'

'I have an errand to run.' she answered truthfully 'And, in fact, I gotta get a move on.'

* * *

She entered the edifice via the guest entrance. The wards were selective, only those who had business with them, could actually see the building and enter it. To the rest of the world, the building was an abandoned warehouse, one that no one would dare to enter without risking the whole structure collapsing on them. The two guards, each perched on the side of the doorway, nodded their greetings. She shot them her trademark smirk and carried on, down the hallway which ended with a blank wall. Only those who had clearance levels higher than three, would be able to open the secret passage and travel downstairs.

She, however, had clearance level nine. And she had business with the Shadowmaster himself, so she carried on further down, many levels underground until she reached the very core of the whole structure. Here, the corridor was carved in stone. The pathway was trapped, each step carried an imminent death sentence to those, who barged here uninvited. Even though it was deep underground, the air was fresh.

She stopped before magnificent carved doors and knocked. The lock clicked seconds after and the doors opened. She stepped inside the office. It was golden, bright and nearly blinding.

He was sitting by his desk, clad in his trademark green mithril armor. It was said to be lighter than any clothing and immune to most spells and weapons. Aran was looking unusually bleary, his face gaunt and eyes encircled in shadows. It was probably due to the presence of another man, the one who was sitting at ease on an ornamented armchair, clad in deep red robe.

'Lord Baelish.' she swallowed her surprise and nodded curtly.

'The Lady Targaryen.' he smiled.

'Well, Stormborn. It seems half the espionage world is paying me a visit tonight.' Aran's voice was edgy. 'I'd dare say it's a coincidence. But I wouldn't bet on my luck so much.'

'And you pull all the strings.' she shrugged at him.

'I guess it's not a social call.' his eyebrows shot up exasperatedly.

'I was never the one for social graces.' she shrugged once more. 'Lord Baelish knows it quite well.'

'You conceal it quite well, being a member of the High Council to the Conclave and all.'

'One must do what one must.'

'Doesn't it bore you? All you do is riddle-talk at each other.' the Shadowmaster's brows knitted together.

'I'd repeat my statement, but _that _would be boring.' she smiled at him.

'Well then? What is the business?' there was something off with him. He was never the one to show any emotions, let alone any amount of distress and tiredness. Either something terrible had happened or he was putting a show for reason unknown.

'It's done.' she walked towards the desk 'Charity's going to be captured quite soon.'

'And you're going after your asset?' Lord Baelish smirked at her 'Now, that is quite brilliant. Not only you'll have the perfect excuse to make an entrance _and _put on some power display, but you'll earn her eternal gratitude for being the most noble and honest employer in the whole clandestine world.'

'You read me like a book.'

'So they'll swallow the bait. And then?' Aran was looking weary.

'Shadowmaster. The Conclave wants blood. I don't. I've managed to convince them to investigate. _Then _make a move.'

'And the Houses?'

'The Small Council conceded.' Lord Baelish smiled at the man 'So it happens that I sit in it and the Lady Targaryen sits in _both _of them. As a witch and as a member of the most ancient House Targaryen.'

'You know how to work your magic, don't you?' the Shadowmaster smiled at her cooly 'We'll make an entrance. We'll woo them. Only that. We'll need a safehouse. And you'll be the one proving it.'

'I have an estate in mind. Northern Scotland. The Angmar Estate.'

'Was it truly Lord Angmar's laboratory at the time? Rumor has it-' Lord Baelish cut off and send another of his annoying small smiles at her.

'At the time being five hundreds years ago, yes. And _yes_.'

'Truly?'

'Truly. Now, however, the research site has been moved to Rissenberg. Which is common knowledge.'

'How's the warding?' the Shadowmaster cut in.

'Enough that no prying eye will be able to monitor _any _activity within its walls. And it's off limits for the Conclave, as it is no more a part of Targaryen Unit.'

'No more?' Baelish snapped an eyebrow 'My, my. It is a private estate now?'

'One of the summer houses.'

'A summer house in Northern Scotland? How-'

'- inconspicuous.' Aran finished for Baelish 'Really?'

'I do believe no one would consider me this stupid to use this place as a safehouse.' she smiled at the men.

'Which you will do. Additional wards?'

'Repelling. Meaning: those who wish to pry will soon stop wishing to pry, considering it a pointless task.'

'How so? Since we're treading around high treason, I'd rather know your gameplay. To some extent.' Baelish was, for one instant, looking cheesy.

'Put it this way. The moment anyone would think of trying to investigate, they'd find themselves, hm, disinterested in the idea. Thinking that's the least possible location of any misdeed. And seconds later berating themselves for a momentary lapse of judgement.'

'Hiding in the broad sight.' she added afterwards.

'Oh, I really do love when you play their pride against them.' Baelish stood from his armchair and brushed his robe.

'Especially with you being as haughty and arrogant as the whole lot of them put together.' the Shadowmaster smirked at her, also standing from his chair. 'I'll assemble the unit. And you change into standard lieutenant gear. You're not going in as a commander.'

'Oh dear. How'll my vanity survive it?' she smiled at the two of them and left the chamber.

'You know, Linvail, one day we'll all bow before her. I wouldn't be surprised if she claimed the Iron Throne one day.'

'In the game of thrones, Peter, I'd rather have her gathering all the power possible, than Lannisters.' Aran Linvail was solemn.

'Or Starks.'

'I'm sure the moment Eddard sat on that blasted chair, half the world would come charging into the Hall of Kings.'

'He mustn't live.'

'She must.'

'You'd have an all-powerful Queen rather then a weak King?'

'You know who it is with the Targaryen. The moment one of them is born, fate flips a coin.'

'I know, I know.'

'Well. Long live the Queen?'

'Yes. Long live the Queen.'

* * *

It was a little past midnight, when Charity was stupified. A gang of Death Eaters picked her from the floor and flew with her to Malfoy Manor. Straight into the loving arms of Lord Voldemort.


	3. Chapter 3

**CHAPTER TWO**

**Hiraeth**

* * *

'She what?' a woman in her mid thirties flung herself off a chair, leaped to her feet and pulled at her own hair, as if to signify her anguish. 'She's barking mad!'

'If you-' there was a second person in the room, a man with slick reddish hair and a very pointed chin. He licked his lips almost nervously and emitted a small cough 'If I may-'

'No!' the woman turned to him, onyx eyes alight with fury 'You most certainly may not.'

'But-' he stepped a tentative step backwards, visibly bracing himself for an attack.

'There are no buts. Not buts at all! She's barking mad! And this is so going straight to the High-' the woman stopped, closed her mouth and swallowed. Suddenly panic hit her eyes, she trembled with some unknown effort, her hands flying to her lips.

'I suggest strongly you compose yourself, Vance.' another person walked into the room. She was very tall and very pretty, dressed in a blood-red dress, with lascivious golden curls encasing her flame. Cold blue eyes bore into the woman called Vance 'And then I will remove the silencer.'

'Sabrina.' the man nodded deeply, a flush entering his cheeks 'I-'

'You stay in the room, Glenevaen. I believe it's best when the matter's left to the three of us. Sit and tell me everything.'

He told her everything he knew. A member of both the High Council and a Small Council has used the current impasse and acted on her own. She was known to have cooperated with the Shadows Thieves, even though she was the commander of the Blackguard. His story did not make much sense, as it seemed that the woman in question had been playing a multiple game.

'So. You're saying, basically, that an aristocrat, presumably an heir, since she's on the Small Council, member of one of the Great Houses and a witch powerful enough to be a member of Small Council is, simultaneously commanding the Blackguard and working for Linvail?' Sabrina did not seem very convinced. 'And how did you obtain this intel?'

'My lady.' he seemed visibly nervous, sending apologetic looks from time to time towards his magically gagged wife, who was now beside herself with fury. 'I'd rather not expose the source.'

'If you'd rather not, Claude, then how am I supposed to believe that this is not some kind of ruse aimed at your superior?' her voice was laden with venom. The man swallowed, veins popping on his forehead.

''My lady' he nearly stammered 'a man of mine works as a footman.'

'You're saying' her eyebrows shot up 'That you are accusing your superior on high treason based on a _servant's_ tale?' the look of incredibility on her face was almost scornful.

'My footman, my lady, has made an acquaintance with her assistant's undersecretary.'

'Excuse, Claude, but this sounds like one of those _my-mother's-brother's-wife's-friend-who-knows-a-friend-of my sister's-acquaintance _tales that no one pays heed to. How does your _footman _verify his tale? And who is he?'

'I'd rather not-' the man began but was, once again, cut off.

'Not his name, Claude. His relation.'

'Oh. He's-uh. He's related to the Malfoys.'

'How related?'

'Cousin, but not a close one, of Lucius Malfoy.'

'A remote cousin of the Malfoys is a footman? So he's pureblood.'

'Yes. Long family tra-'

She cut him off once again.

'Doubtlessly. As pure and noble as the lot of them. Very well. Tell me.'

She made a small gesture with her hand, one none of them ever noticed and suddenly Claude relaxed. He slumped on of the armchairs, and began his tale, this time, however, his words were loose and he had a goofy look in his eyes. The blonde woman was nodding and smiling, her visage almost friendly.

By the time he was finished, she removed both spells. He blinked, looked around groggily and then his eyes snap to her, panic dilating his pupils.

'Don't worry. You did a great job. I'm sure the High Council will be soon addressing the issue.'

'We only wish to serve.' the woman, Vance, walked up to her, looking now slightly timid, although a sense of pride was showing on her features as well.

'Onyx eyes, Vance. It's a Vanderhouser trait, isn't it?' Sabrina smiled at the woman, who returned the notion with almost sickening devotion.

'Oh yes. Carried down the generations.' she nodded happily.

'Well, they are a sight to behold, Vance. I shall leave you. Do not worry' she stood up 'I repeat. You did a tremendous job. Thank you. None shall forget your actions.'

A footman clad in green held the doors opened for her. She picked the hem of her dress as she began her descend down a marble staircase. The Glenevaens in her wake, curtsying along their way. Another footman opened the main doors for her.

It was already fall and the nights were cold. The moon was oddly pale, basking the gardens and her path with an eerie glow. She walked to the main gate. The iron doors snapped open for her.

'Caius?' she spoke and a man walked out of the shadows. He bowed curtly.

'Madame Glevissing. How may I serve you?'

'Burn the place down. Make sure no one lives through tonight. The world must learn not to spy on their superiors. Oh. And Caius?'

'Madame?'

'Be cruel. But discreet. Make it a... ransacking raid, or whatever.'

'Gladly.'

She was ready to apparate, when a thought struck her.

'Caius.' she called out for the third time.

'Madame?'

'Send an owl to Cornelius. Tell him to tell her to dispose of a Malfoy-related footman.'

With that, she was gone.

* * *

She was beaten and then crucioed. Then the Death Eaters became bored with her screams and left. She backed herself against a wall and closed her eyes. The dungeon was damp and cold. She prayed for her to find her before they brutalized or killed her. She had heard the stories and considered them - at the time - exaggerated. This was a blood-supremacy war, with Him-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named resurrected somehow and once again power hungry, not a mob rally. When she had heard the stories of rape, she deemed them just propaganda a panic. Surely, the blood obsessed Death Eaters would not touch something as filthy as herself.

Now she was not sure. As time went, she began to question the sense of entire mission. It seemed only surreal that She would come to her rescue. After all, She was a big player and she was just an asset. And she had seen many of them march away onto their deaths and never quirked an eyebrow.

She had deemed her fit for the job. She send her to Hogwarts. She created her cover and her backup story. She would teach the children Muggle Studies, something that did not require any schooling for her, as she was Muggle-born herself, and spy. Not even Dumbledore had guessed. The Houses of Andal were vastly considered a myth. Alongside with Merlin, Morgan la Fay, or King Arthur.

As she sat with her back against stone wall and shivered, she forced herself to think of the tale that brought her to this place.

When she was little, she would first beg any adult to retell it to her, and then, when she was older, she would read it all the time. Then the letter came and quite soon, probably in her third year, her obsession was weak. By the time of her O.W.L.S. the story was already gone from her mind. But then, in her sixth year, she began having _those _dreams. She dreamed of dragons that never existed, black and silver and nearly almighty, of black and red and golden banners, of marshes and moors and howling winds, of battle cries, armors, swords, of a clash of kings and broken shields. Of magic that surpassed anything she had seen at Hogwarts. Of runes carved into stone, of a black castle and an island with sky-high tower, of seagulls. And of a woman with pearl white hair and ruby eyes, woman, who walked into flames of a funeral pyre as men fell on their faces with awe and despair.

Her obsession had returned and no book would quench her thirst. She was diminishing, not sleeping, not eating, longing for something she could never name. She passed her N.E.W.T.S. and began travelling. She would travel across the northern parts of the country, looking for something that never existed.

And then she met her. And she had said:

'Hiraeth.'

Which meant longing.

And she heard the story once again.

The Houses of the Andal were born of Tuatha De Dannan, the People of the Goddess Danu. The first were the Targaryens, tall and proud, with pearl hair and ruby colored eyes. The came the golden Lannisters, with their blond manes and pride. Then the dark and sullen Starks, guardians of the North. Then the Tyrells with hazelnut hair and pleasant ways. Then DeVirs with their cold eyes and quick hands, ready to kill for no reason at all. Then the Despanas who worshiped spiders and were ruled by women. And then the Greyjoys who smelled of the sea and feared nothing.

The first Targaryen, knowing that without magic men were nothing, stepped into funeral pyre and gave birth to three dragons, eternally biding all the dragonkind to the Targaryens. The prophecy was made.

_He, who is of the dragon, will be the dragon and claim the might. When the last of the Children is dead, so will the Parents march into their graves. The sleep is deep. Hiraeth, long and cry. With fire and blood shall come the cleansing, in fire and blood shall come the end. When the last of the Children is Dead, so will the Parents march into their graves. _

Targaryens introduced magic to the world. The Gift of Andal was spread among the Mundane, so that the magical lines would never end. Every now and then, a magical child would be born of the Mundanes and taken by one of the Houses - as the land was divided in seven pieces. The Houses would raise and command magical children, mating them with others born like them, therefore introducing other magical families. Some would die out eventually, some new lines would be established. The families would intermarry along each other, sometimes with the Mundanes, who are now called, Muggles. Only the Houses would not mate outside, neither with the families or Muggles, nor with other Houses. They would practice incest, as each House had its own specific magic and none were eager to pass it to others.

The rivalry would grow. The Targaryen line, who would have siblings marry each other, was diminishing. With the last Targaryen king, who grew mad, came an abrupt end as a revolution began, encompassing the lands with what had been called The War of Five Kings. What neither House predicted, was that the war soon turned into Three Hundred Years War, leaving all the Houses destroyed and chaos spreading like a wild fire.

New order arose, the Houses passed into the shadows and no one would ever remember them.

This is how the legend ended. There were prophecies, of course, stating that O_ut of the ashes of Andal an new seed will rise. It will not grow but erupt in flames. The Bright Cold Flame of the North which will consume the word. _But since there was no record of them, they were considered frauds.

She sighed and closed her eyes. Little did the world know, that the seed had already risen. The seven Houses never perished fully. The last members hid in the shadows, slowly learning to found allegiances with each other, slowly accumulating its powers.

Even if She were not to come, miss Charity Burbage was ready to die, now that her longing had been fulfilled.


End file.
